


Bus Guy

by sirthatsmyemotionalsupportfandom



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: AU, F/M, One Shot, WishfulShipping, basically a bunch of aus I found on Tumblr mushed together, characters kinda based on the anime, is this ship still alive lol, unless I decide to add more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirthatsmyemotionalsupportfandom/pseuds/sirthatsmyemotionalsupportfandom
Summary: She called him “Bus Guy”. Well, that was what she called him in her head anyways. Why should she call him anything else? They never conversed, and heck, they barely interacted at all. That being said, it’s hard not to learn things about someone you see every day, and Iris had a habit of picking things up quickly.
Relationships: Dent | Cilan/Iris
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	Bus Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers!  
> I wrote this a long time ago and just picked it up again due to me rewatching the BW anime and realizing that these two own my heart.  
> I got most of the inspiration for this from AU prompts, but I still think it turned out pretty cute.  
> This is intended to be a one shot but I might do another chapter or two in the future, who knows.  
> Anyways, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. Happy reading!

Life was simple for Iris. She would wake up early every morning, eat the same old breakfast, give the same old halfhearted “goodbye” to Axew, and then go to the same old job, where she made the same old coffee and earned the same old pay. Every day she’d deal with her beast of a manager for eight hours, then go home and make herself the same old dinner. And every day, the same old guy sat across from her on the bus.

She called him “Bus Guy”. Well, that was what she called him in her head anyways. Why should she call him anything else? They never conversed, and heck, they barely interacted at all. That being said, it’s hard _not_ to learn things about someone you see every day, and Iris had a habit of picking things up quickly. 

The first thing she’d noticed was his appearance. He was well-groomed, with neatly styled hair and formal clothes. Since he wore the same outfit every day, she could only assume it was a work uniform, but for what job she wasn’t sure, since her stop was before his. All she knew was that he was really strange. Always reading, and muttering things to himself at that -- stuff about “flavors” and lots of words that Iris would probably need a dictionary for. 

And he was fascinated by the _strangest_ things. The glow in his eyes when he boarded every day nearly made Iris laugh. Seriously, who got excited about buses?

The next thing she’d noticed about him was his smell. Every time she got off, she would pass him and catch a whiff of something akin to baked bread, or bacon and eggs. It was always different, but always food. Thinking about it later was embarrassing, sure, but it wasn’t her fault he was so fragrant. Perhaps it was an aroma of his breakfast -- and honestly, if it smelled that good, maybe she should’ve asked him for recommendations.

They could have talked. Iris could have easily started a conversation at some point. He seemed friendly enough -- in fact, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him in a bad mood. Always smiling, even if it wasn’t at anything super apparent, looking like some kind of happy-go-lucky nerd; which, to her, seemed like sort of a pain. How could someone live like that?

But the real reason she’d never talked to him was merely because he always seemed so immersed in whatever he was doing. It was usually reading, but other times he was on his phone or looking out the window. Probably way too busy for conversation anyways.

And besides, why was it important whether she talked to him or not? He was just a person on the bus, as was she. It wasn’t like he picked up random things about her like she did him, or called her “Bus Girl”, right? When she thought about it like that, it felt weird.

Despite everything, though, she still harbored a silent curiosity about the man, which stuck with her now as he sat directly across from her once again. Looking around, Iris noticed that the bus was surprisingly empty today; around ten of the usual passengers were missing. Maybe they’d come down with sickness, she speculated. It _was_ that time of year.

Outside, light snowflakes peppered the windows, then melted on the warm glass. It was the first snow of the year, but Iris was sure it wasn’t going to stick. It was only early November, after all, and in her two years of living in Striation City, no snow had ever stuck until a week before Christmas. The wind _had_ been unusually bitter that morning while she waited for the bus earlier, though.

She drew her jacket closer around her. Man, she hated the cold!

Looking away from the window, she couldn’t help but notice Bus Guy reading, as usual, with headphones in. The thick book in his hands was titled “ _The Subway System: A Complex History_ ”, and he seemed to be totally absorbed in it.

_What a weirdo,_ Iris, who was more of an adventure fiction person herself, thought. _If it weren’t for the fancy getup, you’d think it was part of his job._

But before she could think any more scathing thoughts about his choices in literature, a grating, creaking noise filled the bus, making her and many other passengers clamp their hands over her ears. The bus ambled over to the side of the road, where it came to a shuddering stop. 

“Attention, passengers,” the driver's gruff voice crackled over the intercom. “The bus is undergoing some technical problems. Give me a couple minutes to sort out the situation and we’ll be back on schedule.”

Iris groaned quietly. Georgia was going to have her head for this.

Bus Guy, who apparently hadn’t heard a thing, removed an earbud and looked up. “Why have we stopped?” he leaned forward to ask Iris, voice mellow and level.

“The bus broke down or something,” she replied tersely.

He shut his book abruptly and stood up. “Well, I may be able to help with that,” he said, walking down the aisle and outside to where the driver was standing. Iris stood to watch as Bus Guy eagerly spoke to him. She couldn’t hear much, but a few words slipped inside along with the chilly air.

“I . . . expert . . . check the . . . lend a hand . . .”

Then came the driver’s less than patient response. “No need . . . handle it . . . back on.”

And with that, Bus Guy came back inside, brushing the snowflakes off of his jacket and looking slightly miffed. At Iris’s curious glance, he shrugged and explained, “Let’s just say he isn’t interested in any help.”

“Well if the bus isn’t up and running soon, he should be,” Iris complained. “My manager’s gonna kill me. She hates me enough when I’m on time.”

“Where do you work?” the man asked curiously.

“The Sawsbuck’s downtown,” Iris replied dully. “But it isn’t just about me. Everyone here has somewhere to be, including you.”

“My job is fairly lenient when it comes to situations like this,” he said, glancing out the window. “I _do_ wish he’d let me help him, though. This would go so much quicker.”

“So do you work as a mechanic or something?” Iris asked, leaning her head back against the window and immediately shivering at the cold surface.

“Oh, no,” he waved it off. “It’s just an interest of mine. I work at the Gym.”

So he was a waiter. Everyone who’d lived in Striaton long enough knew about the famous restaurant combined with the Pokemon Gym. “Huh. You’d think the Gym would be the _least_ lenient about being on time,” she commented.

He smiled. “Yeah, you’d think.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the driver boarded the bus and gave everyone an update: a mechanic was on their way, and the choice was to either wait twenty minutes or find a different ride.

“I can’t wait,” Iris decided aloud, despite the weather outside only getting harsher. It’d only be a ten-minute walk if she went fast. She’d be late, but not as late as she’d be if she stayed here.

It was snowing heavily now, and to her surprise, sticking to the ground. She felt Bus Guy linger behind her like a shadow as she exited the bus onto the sidewalk.

“I though your job was ‘fairly lenient’ about these things,” she reminded him as they began walking together.

“I said ‘fairly,’ not ‘incredibly,’” he replied. “Besides, the Gym’s just down the street from Sawsbuck’s, anyways, so we’re headed the same way.”

Iris had forgotten about that.

“Okay, but you have to keep up,” she told him. He cheerfully agreed and matched her short, quick steps with long strides.

A silence fell between the two as they walked through the snow, and a minute passed before Iris finally broke it. “So, have you met the Gym Leader, with you working there and all?”

He was quiet for a moment before replying. “Yes, we’ve talked.”

“How is he?” Iris asked eagerly. “I’ve only lived here for a little while, so I don’t know much. Is he as stuffy as they say?”

“Stuffy?” the man responded, a smile forming on his face. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before.” Then, upon realizing Iris was still waiting for an answer, he continued, “I haven’t noticed.”

“Is he nice, at least?”

“I suppose so,” he mused. “He tends to run his mouth, but I think he’s a generally nice person.” 

“Well, I guess that’s all that matters, right?” Iris said, looking up at him. “I mean, even if he’s weird at least he’s got a good heart.”

Bus Guy didn’t reply, instead continuing to smile faintly. A howl filled Iris’s ears as the cold wind wrapped around them, piercing exposed skin. She shuddered and clutched her jacket.

“Are you all right?” he asked in concern, noticing the movement.

“I’m just -- not big on the cold,” she explained, shivering. But when she saw the man hastily removing his jacket she protested. “Hey, wait! You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. I’ve got my jacket.” She tried to mask her visible shaking, which went rather unsuccessfully.

“Well, if you say so,” he gave in, slipping it back on. “Take this, at least.” Slowing down, he loosened the green scarf around his neck and stopped Iris so he could tie it on her. “I won’t take no for an answer,” he insisted when she opened her mouth to protest. 

Iris felt blood rush to her face as his fingers brushed her neck; how could they be ungloved and still so warm? Trying to distract herself, she looked up at his face -- had his eyes always been that green? 

Luckily for her, it was over quickly, and she instinctively jumped back a few steps. “Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed, but admittedly much warmer than before.

They continued walking, making idle small talk as the snow came down heavier and heavier. The scarf smelled good, like pancakes, and were it not for the cold, Iris would have pulled it down in mortification at what she was doing. Ten minutes ago this guy was a total stranger, and now here they were walking to work together and she was wearing his scarf. It was all so odd to her.

That being said, the man made pleasant company. He laughed softly at her cynical comments and offered optimistic ones of his own. Their conversations had proven him indeed to be, as she’d guessed, a happy-go-lucky nerd, but it didn’t seem to bother her as much as she’d thought it would. There was just something so peaceful about him, and Iris noticed herself feeling a strange sort of disappointment as Sawsbuck’s came into view.

The man walked her to the entrance, where they lingered outside. “Well, I suppose this is where our journey comes to an end,” he joked.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Iris replied, not overly anxious to get inside to Georgia’s inevitable fury.

“Did I ever get your name?” he asked.

“Oh, I guess not. I’m Iris.”

He nodded, smiling. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Iris. I’m Cilan.”

Iris felt her stomach drop. “Wait, Cilan?” _Oh no._ “You’re Cilan as in . . . the Gym Leader?”

He shrugged cheerfully. “I guess my cover’s blown.”

Iris went bright red, and not just because of the cold. She had unknowingly been making fun of him for the last ten minutes. How had she not known? She supposed she’d never really seen him before. She’d been expecting someone older, and he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her. How had nobody on the bus noticed him? Was she really that dense? “Oh no,” was all she could manage to say.

Cilan, however, didn’t seem offended at all. He laughed light-heartedly. “To be fair, I can be stuffy at times.”

“I’m so sorry.” Iris was just about ready to bury herself in the snow.

“You’re fine,” he reassured her, his smile unwavering. “I’ve heard worse rumors about me. Besides, you had no idea.”

“Well, uh, I guess I should go then,” Iris nearly whispered, desperate to get out of the situation.

“Of course,” he said. “But before you go, take this.” He handed her a small card seemingly produced out of thin air. “I hope to see you at the Gym sometime.”

“Oh, um, sir, I’m not a competitive trainer,” she stammered, unsure of what to do.

“Not for a challenge,” Cilan called, already walking away. “For lunch!” And before she knew it, he’d disappeared into the flurry of snowflakes.

Suddenly aware of how late she was, Iris stuffed the card into a pocket and rushed inside. A huge line of people trailed all the way from the counter to the door, and Georgia shot her an “I’ll kill you later” look from the register. Iris walked past her and to the back, where her apron was hanging off a hook. Removing her jacket to hang it up, she noticed Cilan’s scarf still wrapped around her neck; in her embarrassment, she’d forgotten to return it.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. There was no way around it now -- she was definitely gonna have to stop by the Gym.


End file.
